


this is you throwing in the towel

by jaylene



Series: Smut Mondays [7]
Category: Naruto
Genre: F/M, Labyrinth!AU, Vaginal Fingering, handjob, the angriest of make-outs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 04:10:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10779291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaylene/pseuds/jaylene





	this is you throwing in the towel

Sakura tucks the fire poker into her makeshift belt, pulling out and analyzing her map. It is marked with strange moving symbols but she catches the gist of it.

She is utterly, hopelessly lost.

Sakura looks around, but there is little she can see with the hedges growing high and heavy above her. The path is cobbled in shiny rocks but it does not tell her where she should be heading.

Sakura glances down at her watch and frowns. She only has six hours left. She cannot afford to be wasting time like this. She’s already conquered so many challenges, breaking illusions, wheedling foes into agreeing with her, and avoiding traps. She can’t be foiled by a poor map and a twisting maze.

Can she?

Sakura takes a seat gingerly against the maze wall, avoiding the brambles that stick out. She sighs heavily, pressing her face into her hands wearily. How have the past eighteen hours felt like weeks? Sakura feels so tired, wrung dry of all her energy.

“Giving up, brave heart?” an entirely too smug voice drawls.

Sakura glares up at Obito balefully, eyes rimmed with dark smudges. Her fingers clutch the poker hard, knuckles white. “Not a chance.”

He is dressed flamboyantly, all silks and feathers and sin, hidden behind a porcelain mask. Obito kneels at her side and draws a claw tipped hand over the side of her face. He doesn’t quite touch her, but she can feel the warmth of him.

“What do you want?” Sakura bites out before she can help herself. She knows what he wants: her imprisonment alongside Sasuke, forever. She wonders if she will be warped by the primordial magics that permeate every branch and stone in this place. It sets her teeth on edge, making her jittery in a way that she despises. “Come to gloat?”

“Not quite what I had in mind, no,” he says.

Sakura blinks, off-balanced as he takes a graceful seat next to her. He turns toward her, his head cocked to the side, mask unnerving. “You’ve done well. Better than any who’ve come before you.”

Sakura huffs a laugh, sound sharp and bitter to her ears. “Yeah, I’m sure.” She looks up, seeing his castle still just as far away as it was when she first started. “It doesn’t seem like I’ve moved anywhere.”

“You are quite tenacious,” he says and there is admiration there, hidden beneath amusement and arrogance.

She watches with bated breath as he reaches up and tugs his mask free.

He looks like a man, albeit quite an attractive one. Truthfully, his aristocratic features remind Sakura uncomfortably of the Uchiha family. The right side of his face is covered in scars. Sakura’s fingers itch with the desire to touch them, to run her fingers over the ridges and assure herself that this, that _he_ , is real.

So she does.

His skin is hot to the touch and Sakura refuses to meet his gaze as she maps out his face with her fingertips. His scars are shiny and tight beneath her hand, stretched taut across the skin.

His breath shudders out of him, hot and heavy as it furls across her face.

Sakura meets his gaze, staring into mismatched eyes. His expression is hard and desperate. “Lionheart, please—” He leans into her touch, vulnerable in a way Sakura does not expect and she is gone.

Sakura’s hands flatten and cup his face as she leans in and takes his bottom lip between her teeth. She is _tired_ and angry and _hunted_ but this is one fight she knows she can win. Obito stiffens beneath her, muscles tensed and alien and Sakura feels a song of triumph in her veins before he surges forward.

This, like all their interactions, is yet another battlefield for them to wage a war of wills. Sakura nips and scratches as she clambers over his lap, wedging herself as close to him as she can be. She’s been here less than a day but it feels like lifetimes since she last touched a living person.

Her teeth draw golden blood and Obito moans against her, shuddering violently.

It seems he likes it rough.

Sakura breaks away from the kiss, ignoring his protesting groan as she takes to attacking his neck, drawing out bright bruises in silvery colors. It seems he is even less mortal than she first thought.

Before she can allow that to disconcert her, he rakes claw-tipped fingers down her back and she focuses back to attention.

After all, she cannot afford to lose ground. Not here.

Sakura bites down hard at the pale, thin flesh of his throat, smirking in triumph as he groans deeply, clutching at her hips sporadically. She vents her frustration at him and this entire situation upon his throat and collarbone, pushing away his high collar to create constellations of her own design.

Sakura jumps as she feels warm fingertips brush against the elastic band of her underwear. In her conquest to form galaxies, she hasn’t paid much attention to Obito’s actions. In the interim, he has unbuttoned her pants and gotten his fingers pressed against the thin silk of her undergarments. She pulls back from his throat and looks up at him.

His lips are swollen from her kisses, hair messy, and gaze vulnerable. Truly, he looks a wreck, especially with the vivid bruises around his throat. “Please, Sakura, I’ll be gentle, just let me—”

Sakura rolls her hips into his hands, quirking an eyebrow in challenge.

Obitos smiles, something buoyant and incredulous in his expression as he pulls her underwear away. He grins, smug, as his thumb presses against her, coming away wet.

Sakura thinks maybe this should feel like defeat, but she thinks it’s a victory in its own right.

To the victor go the spoils.

(So, really, _she’s_ the winner here.)

Sakura’s self-reassurances scatter as Obito presses one finger in tentatively. She moans, back arching as she attempts to move closer to him, to get more friction. There’s just not enough.

Obito presses his face into the space between her neck and shoulder and goes to work. Sakura can feel his smirk, sinuous and sensual against her skin but she cannot bring herself to care too much as a second finger joins the first and he begins scissoring motions.

Still, turnabout is fair play.

As she rolls over his fingers, Sakura trails her hands down his body and grasps at the bulge in his far too tight pants. His movements stutter before he drags his teeth harshly against her collarbone.

“Sakura—” His voice carries a warning, barely comprehensible as it is far more guttural in nature than any human.

Elation threads headily through Sakura’s emotions as she works a single dexterous hand down the front of his pants. His cock is hard and hot, running at a higher temperature than Sakura is used to. Sakura pays it no mind as she strokes him from root to tip, mapping him out unseeingly.

She cannot contain a moan as Obito begins to work her over again, twice as fast and punishing, using a staccato rhythm that she cannot follow.

They’re engaged in a different battle now, one with a single rule: Don’t be the first to give.

Sakura accepts this change with grace, drawing a callused thumb over the weeping head of his cock and spreading his precum to ease the way for greater friction. In turn, a third finger is pressed into her quim as he circles her clit with his thumb.

Sakura’s breath hitches on a whine. “You’re not playing fair.”

Obito huffs and Sakura hears centuries of amusement in his voice as he replies, “I am Fae, sweetling, we stack the odds in our favor.”

Sakura scowls at him, though the effect is broken by her flushed cheeks and unfocused eyes. To even out their battle, Sakura pushes her other hand into his pants and begins to fondle his balls, cupping and weighing them in hand.

Obito curses in a multitude of languages Sakura doesn’t recognize. “Sakura,” he says and begins to repeat in supplication, in reverence, in prayer. Sakura is uncomfortable with the look in his eyes, as if _she’s_ the special one here, the supernatural one.

Thankfully, it doesn’t last long as he braces his face against her shoulder and roars his release, spurting hot and heavy over her hands.

Even as his shoulders sag with relief, Obito continues to pump his fingers into her and Sakura comes with a hitched sigh, bliss immediate and heavy in her limbs. She presses her head into the hollow of his throat, eyes focused on the bruises she left as she tries to center herself. In these brief moments of dizziness, they truly look like stars, brilliant and twinkling.

Finally, Sakura pulls away from him and stands on shaky legs, watching as he takes to his feet uncomfortably. She is amused by the large wet spot at the front of his trousers, though she cannot claim that she is any more comfortable in her jeans.

Obito reclaims his mask and presses it back in place, once more the distant and cool emperor of this underground hellhole. Still, Sakura can make out the flush along his long ears. Sakura grasps her poker tight, tense and ready for anything.

“I grant you an extra two hours,” Obito says magnanimously. “In gratitude for your time.”

Sakura feels her face heat in anger. “I am not your _whore_. I didn’t barter my body for time.”

She can feel him looking at her and, while she can’t see him, she’s tempted to call it incredulity.

“You will not accept this boon?” Obito asks.

She knows she may regret this, that these extra two hours are likely to be crucial. Still, she has her pride, no matter the fact that it may just damn her. “I will not,” she replies firmly. She glances down at her watch. “From my count I’ve five and a half hours left to solve your labyrinth and rescue Sasuke and myself.”

Obito remains silent for several long moments before he shakes his head. “Very well. We shall abide by your rules.” He steps close, drawing a hand under her chin into a caress across her cheek. “I look forward to meeting you at the end.”

He vanishes and Sakura sways forward slightly, knees still weak from her orgasm.

Sakura glances around, frowning thoughtfully at a path through the hedges. She knows for a fact it wasn’t there earlier…

Sakura shakes her head, unable to hide a wry smile as she begins to follow the path. It may be a trap but Sakura knows she’ll rise above it.

After all, she just won the battle.

All that’s left is to win the war.


End file.
